A Legendary Christmas

by Jan Scarbrough

  He studied his shoes. “No, ma’am, I suppose I won’t.” Having a conversation about Chelly was the last thing he wanted to do tonight.

  Crooking her finger under his chin, she lifted his face. “Son,” she began softly, “let the past go. Make her yours. Before it’s too late.”

  Staring into his mother’s eyes, he sensed the unspoken words. She’d lost her love, his Papa, way too early.

  “There are no guarantees, ever. All you have is today. Don’t waste it.”

  He swallowed hard and wondered if it was already too late.

  * * * *

  With bubbles up to her ears, Chelly sank into Suzie’s whirlpool tub, leaned back with her book, and toed the lever to turn off the water. Letting loose of a long sigh, she delighted in the hot water and the steady beat of the jets against her tired muscles. They’d had a long week, and had worked hard. Next week she would move into the lodge with the girls, so more work was headed her way. Tonight, now that she was off kid duty, all she wanted was to relax.

  She soaked until the water grew tepid, the bubbles gone, and the book finished. The bathroom was chilly, so she dried quickly and wrapped herself in a thick towel. The B&B had the best towels, Suzie didn’t skimp on that. Rarely did she skimp on anything. The terry felt good against her skin. Hurrying through Suzie’s bedroom toward her own, she stopped abruptly at the bed and the simple black dress that lay across it.

  * * * *

  The lodge was full of people, and well, people weren’t his thing. Matt slipped out a French door leading onto a deck and braved the winter cold. The deck was cleared of snow, thankfully, so he didn’t have to worry about slipping. The lake sat like a giant jewel beyond the deck, the moonlight flickering off its icy depths. He moved to the rail, peered out into the night, and breathed deeply.

  “Sometimes the crowds get to me, too.”

  Matt looked to his left while Brad Matthews stepped closer. “Yeah. I’m not much for parties.” Then thinking better of that statement, he added, “But as far as parties go, this is a great one. My mother is having a wonderful time.”

  Brad chuckled. “I love to entertain, but I’ve been prepping for this for days. I needed a break.” He glanced to the lake. “Man, I am so glad I didn’t tear this place down.”

  Matt agreed. “Me, too. I sure was sweating it with my cabin a mile up the road. I’m glad you left it as is.”

  “Well, if it hadn’t been for Suzie’s stubbornness, it probably wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Must run in the family.”

  “Stubbornness?”

  “Um.”

  “I hear that goes two ways.”

  Matt’s gaze landed on Brad’s face and he wondered what he meant. There was no time to ponder that, however, when the French door cracked open again and the commotion inside spilled out onto the deck. A sequined Suzie squeezed through the door.

  “There you are!” She sidled up next to Brad and smiled at Matt. “Hi, Matt. It’s so good to see you here.” She turned her attention to her husband. “Honey, a couple of heat cans under the serving dishes have gone out and I can’t find any more. Where do you keep them? Oh, and we’re out of pâté. You know how Bertha Hertz loves her pâté…”

  Rolling his eyes, Brad patted her arm. “I’ll take care of it,” then turning to Matt, “see you later man, glad you’re here. Hey, there could be a poker game later tonight if you want to stick around.”

  Matt nodded and Brad was gone.

  Suzie faced him. “It is good to see you, Matt. Oh!” Reaching to her waist, she pulled a cell phone from her skirt waistband. “On vibration. Just a sec. Could be the kids.” She flipped open the phone and he waited while she said things like “um-huh,” and “yes, of course,” and “you’re sure?” and then finally, “see you in a few.” She snapped the phone shut and then squared her gaze on him.

  “Matt Branson, I need your help.”

  Concerned now, he wondered if this was a police matter. “What is it, Suzie? Is there trouble?”

  Her brow knit and she paused. “Yes. Yes. That’s it. There is trouble. At my house. Someone is sneaking around outside and Chelly…”

  Panic raced to his throat, constricting his breath. No.

  “I’m on my way.” He jerked open the French door. “Tell my mother,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  “Bring her up here!” she yelled, but he was out the door.

  * * * *

  The dress fit like a glove. Sleek and black, the length hit above the knee, the plunging neckline showed a comfortable amount of cleavage, the three-quarter length sleeves skimmed her forearms.

  Chelly turned and looked at herself in the mirror from all angles. Suzie was right. The dress was perfect. Too bad she didn’t have the guts to wear it out in the light of day.

  Or to a New Year’s Eve bash.

  After her bath, she couldn’t resist trying it on. She found it difficult to stop at just wearing the dress, though. She donned pantyhose and found a pair of Suzie’s black pumps. Getting into the dress-up thing, she rummaged through her sister’s jewelry and found a very nice pearl necklace with matching earrings. Oh, and a nice diamond tennis bracelet.

  “Might as well put on a little makeup,” she mused, stepping back from the mirror.

  In fifteen minutes she was dressed, fluffed, decked out, spit-shined and polished.

  “All dressed up and no where to go.”

  Staring at herself, she wondered... Did she dare? Before she could back out, she picked up her phone and called her sister.

  “Talk me out of this,” she said, “I think I want to come to the party.”

  “Um-huh.”

  “Can you come get me?”

  “Yes, of course,” Suzie replied.

  “Okay.” Her heart skipped a beat. Would she really do this?

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “See you in a few.”

  They hung up. Chelly bit her lip and stared at her reflection. “Shit. I’m going to a party.”

  * * * *

  His heart pounding, Matt spun his tires as he rounded the corner and sped into Suzie’s driveway. Running the Jeep almost to the porch, he haphazardly parked the vehicle, left it running, and jogged up the sidewalk and onto the porch. Repeatedly, he jammed the heel of his hand on the doorbell.

  “Answer the door, Chelly. Answer the door.”

  Impatient, he shifted from one foot to another, until the door jerked open.

  “I’m coming! Geez, Suze.” Her voice trailed off as the door swung fully open. Her jaw dropped. “M-Matt?”

  He pushed his way inside. “Close the door. Tell me what you saw.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “What?”

  “You called. Suzie said you saw someone messing around. Where was he? What did you see?” He knew his voice was frantic. Why was she standing there so calm? And why was she so dressed up?

  “Matt, I didn’t see anyone messing around. I called Suzie to come and take me to the lodge.”

  Realization hit him. “Shit.” Raking his fingers through his hair, he stomped off and turned his back to her. Swinging around, he couldn’t do anything but stare. “Shit. And goddamn, you are so beautiful.” Finally, he sat with a thud on the sofa, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, staring at the floor. “This is a set-up.”

  Dammit.

  “What’s going on?”

  He jerked his head up. “You called. I was there standing by Suzie. She said there was trouble here at the house, someone messing around, and that…”

  “Matt Branson, if you think I had anything to do with this, you’re wrong. My sister has been playing matchmaker, that’s all. I did not call to have you come get me.”

  Neither of them said anything. He washed his hands over his face and stared at the floor again. After a moment, Chelly walked to the couch and sat beside him.

  “We’re a pair,” she laughed.

  “Yeah.” He lowered his hands and glanced to his l
eft. She stared straight ahead into the Christmas tree lights. So beautiful, the twinkle reflected against her soft skin.

  “Matt,” she whispered, “I lied.”

  His heart rate kicked up a notch. “About what?”

  “I don’t want you to forget me. I don’t want you to move on. I want… a chance.” Her gaze fell to her lap and she fiddled with the hem of the dress.

  “Chelly…”

  “No, let me say this while I can. I know I hurt you. I know you don’t like me very much. And I know there is this big chunk of history that we’d have to get over. But I can’t get you out of my head, and I can’t ever forget how much I loved you once upon a time. Beyond that, I ache every minute of the day knowing that I hurt you so damn much and that you are still hurting.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. It was then he noticed the tear trailing down her cheek. “The thing is, I don’t know what I can do to make it better. I’ve apologized. You still hate me. I don’t know how to fix this.”

  Closing his eyes, Matt swallowed and gathered his wits about him. His mother’s words from earlier this evening rang in his ears. “I don’t hate you,” he whispered. Turning, he placed his hands on both her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I know how to fix it.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. “How?”

  “I need to let the past go.”

  “I need to think that there could be a future.”

  He slipped the tear away with his forefinger. “Just love me. The rest will come.”

  “I’ve never stopped loving you, Matt.”

  Grasping a tendril of her hair, he twisted it around his forefinger and pulled her closer. As his lips moved in to capture hers, he whispered, “I still love you, Chelly.”

  She tasted like home. Like a million years of wandering, finally settling in the place of his dreams. Pulling away, he peered into her eyes.

  “We need time.”

  She nodded. “And lots of talk.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips. “And kissing?”

  Leaning forward, she lightly touched hers to his again. “Yes. Kissing may help.” Her gaze played over his face. “And making love?”

  He growled and nuzzled her neck.

  “Matt, more than anything, I want us to try again. I’ll do anything…”

  Wrapping her up in his arms, he held her close. “All you have to do is love me,” he breathed, “and let me take you home.”

  Home. Where he should have taken her all those years ago.

  “That’s easy,” she whispered back. “Home is the only place I want to be.”

  THE END

  Want to know more about Chelly’s sister Suzie?

  Read Suzie and Brad’s story in…

  Bed, Breakfast and You

  Suzie Schul has it all. A booming business, a wonderful town to live in, and, well, food. Yeah, she loves to cook and she’s the best darned cook in Legend, Tennessee. Everybody says so. She runs her own B&B, has published a cookbook, conducts cooking classes on Saturdays, and caters for special events and holidays.

  What more could she want, really?

  Nothing that she will admit, anyway. And let’s not even think about that brief escape to Gatlinburg several months back when she had separated from her then-husband, Cliff. Or the fact that the man ran off with her little sister while they were, um, estranged. And let’s definitely not bring to light that she’d never really revealed to anyone in the small town of Legend what exactly had happened between her and Cliff.

  Or the fact that while she was off “finding herself” and “losing her husband” at the same time, she sort of, well, had a fling. But never mind about that, because “the fling” is long gone and likely doesn’t even know where to find her. Besides, he was trouble.

  And just when Suzie thinks all is well, Mr. Trouble rides up to her B&B doorstep on a bad-ass Harley and tosses her perfect little world into some kind of big, bad tumble.

  Read Chapter One…

  “I’ll take it.”

  “You understand the deal is as is.”

  Brad Matthews nodded. “I understand.” He looked up at the decaying and dilapidated structure and wondered what it was like in its hey day. Although he hated to tear it down, that was exactly what he was going to do. “The land is worth the asking price.”

  “What will you do with it?” Martin McClain, the realtor he’d been working with, studied him from the side.

  “I have a plan.”

  Martin harrumphed. “Others have had plans, too. I assume you have the financing for renovation?”

  He assumed correct. Brad suddenly had financing for just about anything he wished.

  “Yes.” His answers were intentionally vague. These small town types, you never knew what they would keep confidential or pronounce in the coffee shop for the whole town to chew on.

  That was the last thing he wanted, or needed: the whole town of Legend, Tennessee, all six-thousand-plus of them, chewing on his business.

  No way. Not until he was good and ready.

  “Lake Lodge is pretty special to the folks around here.”

  Brad figured it was. Figured he’d also have a fight on his hands when they learned what he wanted to do with old LakeLodge.

  “Pretty special to me.” Brad left it at that and turned to Martin. “How soon can we close?”

  Martin rubbed his chin with his forefingers. “Your loan is secure. The sellers are motivated. I’d say any time in the next few days. Let’s sign the paperwork and I’ll get it to their agent.”

  He nodded and let a slow, languid grin spread across his face. “What else needs to be done?”

  Martin studied him. “Well, for starters while you are here in town, I’d check with zoning, a local contractor or two, temporary utilities, et cetera.”

  Good idea. It would keep him busy while he was waiting to take possession. Get the details out of the way so he could get to work.

  He nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Martin thrust out his hand to shake Brad’s. “Good dealing with you, Mr. Matthews. Got a place to stay while you are in town?”

  For the first time since his arrival in Legend, a hint of trepidation skipped down his spine. Slowly, Brad angled his gaze toward LegendLake and across the expanse of water. It was the same view LakeLodge boasted of in old brochures, the one that forty years ago drew tourists to the mountains and the lake in droves.

  And if he had anything to do with it, they would return in droves again.

  His eyes rested far across the lake on a moderate-sized clapboard home that sat nestled in a young cove of trees bordering the lake’s edge.

  “Yes. With any luck, I will have a place to stay.” He turned to Martin and shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. McClain. I’ll give you a call in the morning.”

  Martin headed toward his older model Jeep. The guy was going to enjoy the commission he’d make from the sale. Well, good for him. He imagined the guy could use the money. Might as well let his inheritance contribute to the local economy.

  Turning, he eyed his newest toy—a brand spankin’ new, baby-blue Harley Davidson Dyna—and swung a leg over the warm leather seat. Felt good to be in the saddle. In control. Two dreams coming true. A hog of his own and becoming his own boss real, real soon.

  He was a man with a plan; knew exactly what he wanted.

  But there was one more piece of his plan to accomplish, and he would work on that one, next.

  He kicked the bike into gear and the rumble broke the mountain calm. As he spun out, he wondered what the locals were going to think when other rumblings broke the silence of the small town.

  Like dynamite blasting a hole in the side of their favorite mountain.

  ****

  What in the world did I forget?

  Flour.

  Eggs.

  Cinnamon and nutmeg.

  Sugar.

  Blueberries.

  Butter.

  One by one Suzie Schul lifted the items out of her cotton grocery
bags and placed them on her kitchen island. She’d forgotten something. What was it?

  Darn it. Why hadn’t she made a list? She always made a list. Why didn’t she make a list today? Why not this time?

  Seriously, she had to get over this bad habit lately of second-guessing herself. Mentally she ticked off the recipe items needed for her famous Legend Mountain Blueberry Muffins. Flour, check. Eggs, check. Spices, check and check. Sugar, check. Fresh blueberries, check.

  Butter, check.

  Damn. Milk.

  She’d forgotten the stupid milk.

  And she was bone-dry out. She frowned in disappointment. Tonight was the night she wanted to perfect the recipe for her new cookbook—At Your Leisure: Recipes of Legend’s Landing Bed and Breakfast. Thinking about the new title her editor had just approved, she smiled but then immediately frowned as she glanced toward the groceries on her kitchen counter.

  It wasn’t that the grocery store was that far away, or that it would take her hours to go back and get it. It was, however, the simple fact that getting back into the car, driving the ten minutes to the local Piggly Wiggly, working her way to the very back corner, grabbing the milk, and making her way to the checkout aisle would be another damned exhausting trip down memory lane. One she didn’t want to take again today. She’d already been there an hour or so ago, much to her chagrin.

  Their voices still nagged at her….

  “Suzie, honey, so sorry to hear about...Cliff.” Cluck, cluck. Old Mrs. Wilson. Her dementia had set in about a year ago and she recalled everything that happened exactly one year ago, over and over again. Whenever she saw Suzie, all the genteel older woman ever thought about was how Cliff had left her.

  Poor, poor Suzie.

  Pat-pat on her hand. “You feeling better, dearie? You look a bit peak-ed.” Mr. Wilson moved his hand up her arm. Suzie knew better than to turn her back on the old man because he’d be pinching her backside before you could say, “Howdy do.”

  Then there was Betty Jo. Grocery clerk. Scowling across the melons. “That sister of yours should have known better. She wasn’t raised that way.” She violently shook her head. “You need to get out and find a man, sweetie. It’s time. Want to go to Knoxville with me Saturday night?”